You've Got That Something
by EmitTime
Summary: Alternately titled, "The Fourth of June." People don't know Arthur Kirkland like he does. - A lightly introspective USUK oneshot.


**Alternately titled, "The Fourth of June." People don't know Arthur Kirkland like he does. - A lightly introspective USUK oneshot.**

**Author's Note: Whoo! This fic helped me get over my latest writer's block! I wanted to write a July 4th fic which wasn't overly depressing. Maybe I somewhat succeeded. It is unbeta'd, however.**

**.x.x.x.**

The sun was beating down on them as they rode in his open convertible, music streaming from the disk player only to be lost to the wind and sky. Alfred was Fdriving along a bare stretch of highway, with great expenses of pines, maples and hills stretching and rolling on for miles. It was a day to feel alive, and they were alone on this highway, but never lonely.

Alfred was never lonely with Arthur beside him, and especially not on days like this.

Alfred would admit to himself that even for a nation, he was still young, and often ignorant of many things. But when he knew things, he /knew/ without question, regardless of what anyone else wanted to make him believe.

So, while it was true that he didn't know everything, he did know _some_ things pretty darned well. He was positive of one fact, and it set a flattered spark of joy flaring up in his chest when he thought about. Alfred was _sure_ that no one else knew of this Arthur Kirkland, this golden-haired, emerald-eyed angel who sat in the passenger seat of his car.

No, they didn't know the man who sang along to the Beatles with a voice of honey and harmony as they sped along the highway, and forced Alfred to drive with one hand because he insisted upon clasping their hands together.

There was no way they could know, because Arthur hardly ever allowed himself to be so carefree.

In fact, Alfred didn't even think that Arthur himself was aware of it. Only Alfred saw this side to him, in rare moments of sunshine and sacred solace. It was something he'd been observing for some years now.

When it was just the two of them, Arthur became someone else.

When he let his guard down for Alfred - /just/ for Alfred - he was someone beautiful, someone spontaneous, someone _free_.

He let go of his defensive demeanor and biting words, that refined and overly-assured attitude he used in the hopes of instilling respect in others.

He relaxed in Alfred's presence, and sometimes it was almost like nothing had changed at all between them, because Arthur's eyes were bright like the lush green of his homeland, and his hand was as warm as it had ever been in Alfred's own.

"What are you looking at, you silly lad?" The person of his observations asked, mirth dancing in his eyes and lifting his cheeks into a relaxed smile.

"You!" Alfred admitted with a grin, hastily whipping his gaze back to road after having been caught staring. He couldn't help but sneak glances now then, though, as Arthur tilted his head away and chuckled.

When they stopped a few minutes later at a red light, Alfred turned the music down. He felt compelled to take the man's chin, gently coaxing him to look up again.

A faint blush dusted the older nation's cheeks. "Al..."  
For a moment, something in Arthur's eyes flickered, his emotions beginning to shutter closed again under such close scrutiny.

"Hey," Alfred murmured on a breath, stroking his thumb along a lightly freckled cheek. "You're amazing like this."

"Oh, hush. You're being awfully sappy today."

Perhaps that was true. Alfred couldn't rightly help it. He treasured days like this, and he truly wanted to say so much. He wanted to voice the words that came to him in the dark hours of starlight when he realized how much Arthur meant to him. He wanted to tell him to stay like this forever, to not hide away beneath walls of ice and stone and thorns anymore. He wanted to show the man that he could shelter him from everything, including himself, that he would wrap him in his arms and let him break down until he had cried out all the tears from every year, until there was nothing left but peace and relief and _future_.

But Alfred couldn't do that, because Arthur was who he was, and so was he, and they could not always have days of sunshine without getting burned.

Instead, he just felt Arthur's breath hitch in his throat, and watched as his face softened and his jade eyes grew glistening with tears he would surely not allow himself to shed.

"I'm really glad you're here with me, Artie."

"As am I, love." Arthur turned his face and brushed his lips across Alfred's fingertips, the simply chaste kiss conveying all the secret and special things they felt. "I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else."

"Alfred, I just want you to know, I..." Arthur looked suddenly anxious, the color in his eyes turning to a saccharine sort of sadness.

Alfred wished he could see how the rays of sun light faint halos in his hair. "I think I know what you're going to say, and it's okay."

"You...do?"

"Yeah." Alfred smiled, halfheartedly, understandingly. Did England really expect him not to have known this was coming? _That_ was something which truly hadn't changed over the years. It wasn't as though Alfred could blame him. Sure, it hurt, but he probably deserved it.  
"You don't have to go. Just don't bake me a cake, m'kay?"

"I wasn't going to say that." Arthur ducked his head, toying with the cuff of Alfred's favorite jacket. "I was going to say I'm sorry...for everything, Al."

Alfred blinked. England was apologizing? To him? For _that_?

"And," Arthur continued. "What time?"

The weight of what was being offered - what was being _surrendered_ was not lost on Alfred. He felt his hands shaking slightly and curled his fingers inward, cursing the weak response, but it was all he could do not get out of that car and whoop for joy because...

Because Arthur Kirkland loved him enough to say he was sorry, and to come to his birthday celebration.

"Anytime! Anytime you want. It doesn't matter, I'll plan it around your schedule, dude, I promise." He blathered excitedly. "You're sorry?! I'm sorry, too, I wish you knew how much I thought about you, how much I always think about you, God, Arthur, you have no idea..."

"Be still, Alfred, it's alright." Arthur soothed, reaching forward to wrap his arms around the taller blonde. "We are such fools, aren't we?" He choked out a wry laugh which might well have been a dry sob, and Alfred felt the man's heart beating rapidly like a rabbit's within his slight frame. "I suppose that's why we can't leave each other alone, hm?"

"I'll never leave you alone." Alfred answered, gripping England's shoulders. "Not again, Arthur, I promise."

"I know." Sighing heavily, Arthur bow his head, resting his cheek on Alfred's shoulder. "I know you didn't mean for it to be that way. I know better now." He pulled back, tenderly running his hand through Alfred's honey-blonde locks. "I trust you. And I forgive you. Have forgiven you. I won't lose you again, Alfred, especially not to my own bitterness."

Swallowing his remorse, Alfred leaned into the caring touch, feeling a weighted burden slip away at the caress of Arthur's deft fingers. "I make a wish every year on that day, you know."

Arthur hummed. "And what do you wish for?"

"For you to be happy." He admitted softly.

He saw it, and probably felt it, before Arthur himself knew what was happening. He watched the very last jaded wall of indifference crack and shatter into a million pieces within Arthur's heart, watched the dam burst and his eyes flood with salty tears, rolling with the force of oceans down his cheeks. He felt the hand in his hair tighten slightly, saw England lean in...

And then lips were on his own, and it was a rush of _everything_ like he'd never felt before, because Arthur was being open and _honest_ and all he could do was yield to the man who meant everything to him, and hold him securely in his arms.

"I am happy, Alfred." Arthur smiled with wonder against his lips. "I am happy, I promise. And it's thanks to you. It's always been you."

And Alfred certainly didn't know everything about the world, but he knew, in that moment, what _real_ love was.

For although their words would often fail them, and their actions would betray one another, and they constantly fought, there was something deeper and larger than any of that between them. They would always fight _for_ each other.

Real love was running away, and coming back. Real love was moving forward, and days of sunshine. Real love was ultimate forgiving and anxious confessions and new beginnings, _chaste first kisses_. Real love was what they had, and they didn't have to worry because no matter what happened, they would always have _this_.

"Always is a long time." Alfred remarked with a grin, pulling away at last when they noticed that the light had long-since been green.

"Not if you're having fun!" Arthur winked cheekily, his cheeks flushed rose-red.

And as he turned the music back up and England returned to singing as if nothing too profound had just occurred, America couldn't help but laugh, and press forward on the gas pedal to the curves of the road ahead.

_This time next month,_ Alfred thought, _he'll be different again_.  
Old ghosts would resurface, and England would rebuild some of his walls. He never could go without them for very long.

For Arthur, he knew it would be a day filled with clouds, despite the sun's heated rays and the _pop-pop-pop_ of fireworks.

But today, it was just the fourth of June, and the one thing Alfred chose to celebrate was sitting right beside him, singing his heart out with warmth and the simple joy of wanting.

And Alfred wanted him in return.

As the sun kissed their cheeks and the breeze tousled their hair. he thanked each star and the Heaven above them that his wish had come true.

"Yeah, you've got that something! I think you'll understand. When I feel that something," Arthur wove his fingers through Alfred's, glancing at him expectantly.

Who was he to deny Arthur anything?

"I wanna hold your hand!"

"I want to hold your hand!"

**.x.x.x.**

_The End_

**.x.x.x.**

**Happy early Birthday, 'Murica! ^^  
Disclaimer: I claim no rights to the Hetalia franchise, nor the Beatles hit, "I Want To Hold Your Hand". Ah, the Beatles... Their songs could just be the official soundtrack of USUK.**

**I thought about making this 1,776 words...but then I thought that would just be a cruel brand of irony.**

**P.S. For those of you who were so kind as to read/follow/favorite my unfinished story "It's Not the Curl", starring Austria and the Bad Touch Trio, don't despair. I do have more chapters (semi)planned out and intend to finish it! I've just got to take some time for other stories and life first. Thank you for your continued patience and interest!**

**Stay classy, my friends!**


End file.
